


The Season

by leadernovaandthemacabre



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Rituals, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Top Lance, Virgin Lance, Voyeurism, afab language, background Sheith - Freeform, bottom Kolivan, trans Kolivan, werewolves au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leadernovaandthemacabre/pseuds/leadernovaandthemacabre
Summary: In the grasslands of the south, two nomadic peoples encounter one another during the season of love. An intercultural exchange of languages, technologies and food turns into affairs, orgies, and impromptu marriages.Kolivan is a widower who makes peace with being unpaired. He wanders into the pastures to relieve himself in solitude and is chanced upon by a bright-eyed youth.
Relationships: Kolivan/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 50





	The Season

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to clear my head of my ongoing multi-chap fics. I wrote it as an unapologetic self-indulgent fic. If y'all enjoy it that's cool too.
> 
> Though Kolivan refers to Lance as “distant cousin” or “little brother” they aren’t related. It’s a title bestowed because they are of a similar race.

The sun set and Kolivan wandered through the long grass on four legs. He and his ancestors were built for this land, so unlike their distant sister tribe whose generations spent in the north resulted in more powerful builds, he and his people had stilt-like legs and narrow bodies to keep his eyes above the grass and belly off the hot earth.

He trot away, a big moon low in the pink sky, with a sense of self-pity. He admitted to himself that if he made an attempt he might have been able to find someone willing to spend time with him. Instead, he submitted to the fear of being rejected.

Kolivan was old, was a widower, and was in menopause. He could not compete with the things young enough to be his grandchildren. If nothing else, it wouldn’t be tasteful.

And even then he doubted he would be satisfied. He wasn’t eager for the rabid fuck that could satisfy juvenile heats. His body hungered for love, and he doubted he would have the time to teach any of the newcomers how to please him even _if_ they had enough blood in their brains to learn.

So Kolivan set out for privacy. His nest was a lean-to constructed of branches and shading a solitary carpet. Several couples had nests scattered across the grasslands and knew to leave one another alone. He checked that all his food and oils were as he left them before shifting to his bipedal form and slipping his pelt from his shoulders.

Utterly nude, his dark skin blended with the shadows in the grass. He kneeled. He was warm from his advancing arousal and the general mugginess of the night. He flattened his pelt, took a mighty drink from his calabash of palm wine, and lay on his back to speculate the stars.

The heavens rolled slowly. He paid attention to the spirals on the surface of the gas planet, their host planet, massive on the horizon. It glowed in the twilight and then disappeared under the weight of constellations. Kolivan’s right hand wandered aimlessly up and down his happy trail.

The skin on his belly and thighs were thin and supple but he had pride in the body that was strong. He still had all his teeth. And when his fingers slipped to his loins, he was wet and reactive.

His eyes slipped shut. “Oh,” he whispered to the dark. The dark absorbed his quiet sounds. There was no echo of neighboring coupling. There was just the sky, the grass and the heat. Kolivan felt small before the world and the familiar magic pooling in his pelvic floor. He grabbed the calabash of palm wine. He grabbed the calabash of almond oil. He drank. He slicked his fingers.

His heels ground against dry grass. His knees rose to the sky and twitched apart. He worked his two middle fingers in tight circles over his half-hidden cock. On every other rub something flared and sparked compounding the growing groggy sensation in his belly.

He pulled on memory and fantasy. He recalled his husband beneath him, tongue wide and thirsty, roaming through Kolivan’s folds, and Kolivan sighed. When he was pregnant with their firstborn his husband had pleasured him like that most nights and mornings. His tongue was predictable and sure and Kolivan praised him for it. His pleasure was always guaranteed.

Kolivan’s head turned a little. He whimpered and sighed as he continued. Oil and building slick dripped from his perineum to the carpet. He placed his soles on the ground, angled his hips in the air, and whined.

The bush on the east end of his nest shifted.

Kolivan twisted onto his feet and snatched up his unsheathed knife. “Show yourself.”

A black nose poked through the yellow grass. A red paw broke the circle of Kolivan’s nest. Tall brown ears were to follow then a rippling flank. The stranger’s coat was so lustrous it seemed to sport starlight all by itself. When their long tail cleared the shoots on the fringe of his space, Kolivan couldn’t help but take stock of the penis hanging heavy between their hind legs. It bobbed with each step and was so enflamed it seemed to glow.

Kolivan lowered his knife. “Distant cousin,” he murmured with a nod of the head.

The stranger bowed their head too. Their eyes were bright, black and deep, and flickered between Kolivan’s face and his disguised cunt.

Kolivan caught it. “Are you looking for a partner?”

They bobbed their head and whined, one of their hind legs lifting. Their erection was causing them pain by all appearances. Kolivan softened a little. “I feel for you, little brother. But what you need I cannot provide. Perhaps if you seek a younger companion they will aid you.”

His young friend looked to the side a little mournfully. “I don’t want anyone else.”

Kolivan jumped at the rasp of their— _his_ voice. He sounded young. He _smelled_ young, clean and acidic, and his unfamiliarity with courting properly (there are ways of approaching one’s nest without frightening them) implied he was a virgin.

Kolivan sighed. “What do you want of me, little brother? I’m easily the age of your father.”

He met his eyes forcefully. “You’re hot. Uh— _beautiful._ The way you cut down the wild dog making for that kid yesterday I-it was sexy. You’re competent. That’s sexy.”

Surprised and flattered, Kolivan stared.

His young friend took one step back, abashed. “I suck at this. I’ll just go.”

“Stay.”

Black eyes met his.

“Stay,” Kolivan repeated. At last he reclined and rest again on the carpet, knees and lips parted. His keen senses heard the skipping thump in his young friend’s chest and smelled the spike of arousal off his fur. His red hot cock jerked and he shifted to hide it, embarrassed and enthralled.

Kolivan reached over himself and grasped the calabash of oil. He heard his companion stifle a whine and swallow. He didn’t know how his hairy chest or stomach clenched and warbled. He couldn’t see how his shapes struck his companion as sensual and strong. Kolivan tilted the oil over his pubic hair and it cascaded down over his hidden vulva. His companion eyed him hungrily and shifted forward and back on impatient paws, but otherwise did nothing.

Kolivan decided that he liked the boy with self-control. “What is your name?”

He at last met his eyes. “Lance.” He swallowed. “What’s yours?”

“My name is Kolivan.” He touched himself and sighed. Lance’s attention was recaptured. “If you wish to partner with me you must know what I like. Sit and watch.”

“Yes, Kolivan.” Lance dropped to his haunches. His cock jutted out obscenely between his front ankles so he leaned forward, lying down now. It put him closer to Kolivan’s working fingers and his rich thick taste. He watched avidly.

Kolivan had a thought to spare being embarrassed. He closed his eyes and rolled his fingers and tore at his bottom lip.

He worked himself with his middle and wedding finger in concise, tight circles, pushing and twisting his dick in delicious sharp torture. His shoulders melted at one particular _zing_ up his belly and down his thighs, twitching them apart. He ground his hips skyward in shallow dismissible bucks. Save for the song of crickets and the buzz of mosquitoes only his new companion’s panting accompanied him.

His skin was hot. He wasn’t fantasizing. He realized: _ah, I enjoy being watched._ He peered down his chest to take Lance in stock.

Lance had his tongue out, panting because the night was warm and he was warm, eyes trained on Kolivan’s movements. He glanced up and their eyes met. Lance tilted his head in question.

In a stroke of confidence, Kolivan reached down his body with his other hand. His fingers rose and fell over the grooves of his belly and scars as he did so. He heard Lance swallow then swallow again when Kolivan’s legs widened and he spread his labia for Lance’s scrutiny.

Lance whined. Kolivan was pink, bright pink, and his folds and textures shimmered from oil and creamy discharge. His cock jutted out above, tiny and proud, and Kolivan rubbed his middle finger down and around it and stifled a sigh.

Lance pawed at the ground miserably. His own cock throbbed and ached and he felt the fur on his haunches wet. Still, he did not move any closer. He said, “You smell amazing.”

Kolivan chuckled. His voice was deep and Lance’s fur stood on end. “You’re sweet.”

Lance took a chance. He warbled, “Do you taste sweet?”

Kolivan met his eyes again. Lance froze. Perhaps he went too far or too corny with his flirting. He was resigned to believe that Kolivan, mature and advanced and having learned thrice over what Lance didn’t know he didn’t know, might be having fun at an arrogant virgin’s expense. Lance only believed that he might be taken seriously when Kolivan spread his legs even wider, pulled his vulva apart, and nodded with his chin in invitation.

Lance licked his maw in a broad stripe. “Really?”

Kolivan was amused. “Are you all talk?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” His eyes were trained on Kolivan’s sex. “I won’t be good at this.”

“Rake the flat of your tongue over my hole. Lick the underside of my clit at random. Take caution with your teeth and seek pleasure in the action.”

Lance whined and crawled closer. His paws were now on either side of Kolivan’s rump.

Kolivan rest his head back. “Begin when you’re ready.”

Lance’s first lick was experimental and cautious. Kolivan jumped but hummed, and Lance decided it wasn’t a sound of displeasure.

It wasn’t: Lance’s tongue was sublime. Kolivan had forgotten how intimate oral could be. He bared himself to a stranger’s face and was rewarded with a tongue so dexterious and warm it might as well be made for this function.

Lance was in his third experimental lick when he found Kolivan was not sweet. He was…slimy, “cloudy”, a touch tangy with an aftertaste of bitterness. He wasn’t in love with Kolivan’s flavor, but the textures of his pussy were wonderful like the raw, soft meat of a fresh kill. His fangs quivered. He poked his cold nose to Kolivan’s mount. His hair stank with his effervescent consent.

Kolivan sported a lazy smile when he checked in again. “How do you find it so far?”

“I like it,” Lance admitted shyly. His tail was wagging behind him. “What do you…um. What do you call your…?”

“My parts?”

Lance ducked his face into Kolivan’s dark thigh and nodded. Kolivan reached down and stroked between his ears. “It’s alright,” he purred, besotted with soft black hair. He was deliciously well-groomed. “I’ve no preference: clit, dick, cunt, hole, pussy, whatever you like.”

Lance met his eyes again and Kolivan’s coolness melted his own anxiousness. “Do you like, uhm. Can I suck your dick?”

“Whatever you like, love,” and he spread himself again.

Lance descended upon him with new enthusiasm.

Kolivan’s back arched in surprise. He gasped and the moan caught in his throat petered off into a whine. Lance was no longer unsure. He was messy and uncoordinated but there was beauty in his wanton exploration.

His tongue laved and laved and laved at his hole like he was dying of thirst and Kolivan’s cunt was the first oasis found in miles. On every third lick or so Lance’s flat tongue raked up up exposed flesh and flicked off Kolivan’s dick. Between the third and fourth attempt he learned to cup the tip of his tongue under the clit and push as he bounced off.

Kolivan shouted at that. Lance keyed into Kolivan’s bitten off nonverbal praises and repeated the action, his technique improving on each stroke. Kolivan’s hair clung to the cool sweat on his forehead and nape. It was like his clit itself was being jacked off. He winced when he felt slick wet the carpet beneath him, but Lance lapped him up eagerly, tail lashing the grass behind him, wholly engrossed.

He moaned, lost to the physical sensation, an experience he hadn’t felt since he was a youth. Fantasy and prose had been his companion in the wake of his husband’s passing and he made peace with the concept he’d never fall in love with a heavy fuck ever again. But Lance’s enthusiasm, his hunger to please a man who’d seen the world twice over, stroked a unique fire in him that had him cumming on Lance’s tongue.

Lance panted excitedly at Kolivan’s high hiss and violent lurch, but did not relent until Kolivan was physically pushing him away.

Lance’s ears flicked back. He whined apologetically even as his red tongue flashed over his darkened muzzle. “I’m sorry. What did I do wrong? I thought—”

“You were wonderful,” Kolivan gasped. He was sitting up. His ears were ringing. “But I orgasmed. I am oversensitive.”

Lance didn’t seem to get it, but nuzzled Kolivan’s hand and leaned into scratches behind his ear.

“Your fur is beautiful,” he managed as his heart rate came down. In the back of his mind he was still reeling, and Lance’s fur, combed through and soft, grounded him. He didn’t miss Lance’s cock still engorged and pitiful and heavy on the carpet. Lance seemed to be working hard at ignoring it however and beamed under praise and petting.

“You are free to keep your preferences, but what do you look like beneath your pelt?”

Lance’s mood stalled a little.

“You don’t need to show me. I understand among your people to shed one’s skin in front of another is a sign of immense trust.”

Quietly: “I trust you.”

Kolivan was amused. He rubbed Lance’s broad shoulders. “Why, I wonder?”

Lance drew back. His back hunched, and his hair _grew._ For a moment between Kolivan’s knees was a hill of undulating furs. He stayed impassive until a head popped out above it all. He stank of heat and arousal and skin and sweat and he was cute.

He was gawky. His shoulders, chin, jaw, and elbows jutted out at severe angles, his ears and eyes were big. His chest was spotty with hair and freckles and skinny, Kolivan could count the ribs beneath his nipples, and his feet were big and his knees knobby. Kolivan stroked a hand through his hair, dark and curly, and drank in the appearance of his lover. When he cupped Lance’s cheek Lance leaned into it as though he wanted to hide.

“You’re adorable,” Kolivan kissed his forehead. Lance whined, ducking his head. He breathed deep and twisted his hands in his pelt heavy in his lap. Kolivan kissed the shell of each ear and the lobe of each ear. He insisted, “You are lovely.”

Lance’s voice shook. “You…you’re…I fell in love with you. The way you use a knife.”

“Hm. You believe in love at first sight?”

Lance watched him with big rheumy eyes. His lips were red. “I don’t have another name for this pull and hunger in my chest.”

“So wonderful,” Kolivan grasped both ends of Lance’s face and devoured his lips.

In a moment Kolivan recognized Lance was familiar with kissing. While he let Kolivan take the lead, the shape of his lips fell in the right slots and his tongue was calm and curling, a bed of sensation and texture. Kolivan parted them six times delighting in the sound of their kisses and the growing grin in Lance’s cheeks.

Lance’s hands were knotted in Kolivan’s chest hair. His hands inched lower and he was cupping Kolivan’s breasts.

Kolivan hummed his permission, and Lance rolled them in his palms. He didn’t pinch, he kneaded gently, and Kolivan dropped his forehead to Lance’s. “You have wonderful hands, love.”

Lance was breathing heavily, eyes dark with focus. Kolivan drank his breath.

“Kolivan…”

Kolivan shuddered. Lance’s voice, heady and clear and human, ravenous and wanting, twisted his name into something sinful.

His reply was hushed. He was prepared for Lance’s desire to mount him. “What is it, love?”

“May I lick them?”

Kolivan blinked.

Lance looked up searchingly. “Can I suck on your nipples? Please?”

Kolivan nodded. His hair dropped from one shoulder at the motion. Lance’s eyes caught the movement and one hand left one breast and ran lightly up his skin and kissed his collarbone—his touch was so light Kolivan shivered—and pulled a lock of straight starlight hair through his fingers and brought them to his lips.

Kolivan thought he was impressively romantic for being a greenhorn.

He sighed: Lance kissed his Adam’s apple, the hollow of his throat, each clavicle, three divisions of his sternum, and he dragged his lips to Kolivan’s nipple. The first suck was gentle. Kolivan felt a rush of need, sexual and maternal, that coalesced into a bizarre heat at the base of his stomach. His rejuvenated cunt clenched. Lance’s tongue left no stretch of areola unloved.

Kolivan huffed and gathered Lance to his breast, fur and all. Lance folded into his arms and legs easily. He fit under swollen bicep and thigh easily. Still, he suckled. Kolivan kissed his hair. He felt distinctly consoled and peaceful even with the restlessness in his loins.

Lance’s hands laced together behind Kolivan’s lower back. “Your body feels good,” Lance kissed his hair chest and moved to the neglected nipple. “I, uhm. I like how you hold me.”

“Do you? Then I won’t let you go.”

Kolivan nearly missed his giddy, lovesick smile. He felt it between the roll of teeth and lap of tongue.

He pet him. With how outrageous his erection had been since they’d made their acquaintance Kolivan expected to have been mounted and knotted by now. Lance likely suspected that that wasn’t what Kolivan wanted the moment he sat down for instruction.

“Lance.”

“Hmm.” He latched onto Kolivan’s areola proper. A scatter of sparkles flared down their skins.

“My love that feels wonderful, but I want to explore your body as well.”

Lance pulled back. “How do you want me?”

“Just so.” He began to remove Lance’s fur pelt where it covered their intimacy.

Lance grabbed at it. “Wait!”

Kolivan waited.

Lance stuttered, “I—I—you mean to, uh, have sex with me right? I…”

Kolivan cradled his jaw. “If you are not ready I will respect that.”

“I want you,” his eyes closed, he leaned into the touch, his lashes were wet. “I’m just…I.”

“I want you,” Kolivan replied against his lips. “However you want me, however you choose. I want to give myself to you.”

Lance met his eyes. He looked unsteady as though he were on the precipice of a major decision. It was just then that Kolivan realized his eyes were not brown in this form, but a unique rich blue. “Will you lie on your back again?”

Kolivan did without further prompt and, for extra measure, bared his throat. He delighted in the way Lance’s eyes rolled over him as though he were one of those young, ripe virginal things and not an old boy with heat flashes.

Lance gulped. “Just a minute.” He turned his back.

 _He’s so thin,_ Kolivan eyed the bones in his back. If Lance were his responsibility, his partner, he’d ensure Lance stayed fat and strong no matter how long they travelled with their pack—

He sighed and banished the thought. His desire to care for Lance, to be more than a sexual partner, was a result of hormones and the excitement of coupling for the first time in years. He schooled himself: he would be Lance’s first and that would be all. He couldn’t burden this kit with the expectation of commitment.

“I’m ready,” Lance whispered.

Kolivan opened his eyes. Lance had folded his pelt and put it beside Kolivan’s to imbibe in the scent by proximity. Kolivan’s lips parted at the gesture: Lance wanted to wear Kolivan’s scent even after all was done. Lance had also taken to the calabash of oil and slicked himself so it oozed sluggishly onto the carpet. The fire in Kolivan’s belly flared.

Lance’s cock as a wolf was impressive onto itself. As a human it was just so. It was a gorgeous shape, straight as an arrow with prominent, flared corona and a broad broad head smooth and intimidating. His shaft was a powerhouse of corded muscle. His cock wasn’t fat but looked disproportional cradled in the bowl of his thin pelvis as though his body were emaciated to support the meat of his loins. His balls were tight, even, and Kolivan’s fingers itched to weigh them in his palm. Not a speck of pubic hair was in place.

He didn’t stop himself from brushing his fingers across the bottom of Lance’s dented belly. Lance huffed in surprise: Kolivan touch sent crackles up and down the tinder of bone and skin. “You are,” and Kolivan swallowed, unaware he had been salivating. “You are a marvel.”

Lance looked crossed between pitied and prideful. “I know I’m not big. You don’t have to pretend.”

“You misunderstand me. You are delicious, Lance. I could spend all night appreciating your appearance alone.” He took Lance in hand, ignored his sharp gasp, and pulled his vice hold up up up, watching Lance’s cock and belly strain and the foreskin cover and fall away from the head, beading come.

Lance was breathless and in sweet pain. “Kolivan,” he pleaded. “That feels great but I, uh, I need...” he flushed.

Kolivan held the base of his cock, squeezed, and pressed his lips to Lance’s lips as he whined. “Yes, love. Take me.”

He retreated, lay on his back, and much as when he offered himself to be eaten he spread his vulva. That pretty pink flashed between ivory hair. Lance licked his lips, ignorant of where to look and therefore looking everywhere at once, sweat beading on his back and forehead as if they were already three hours in.

He'd taken himself in hand positioned between Kolivan’s knees when the question came to him: “How do you like it?”

“Slow,” Kolivan purred. “I will guide you, but I will allow you to be selfish at first. Enjoy yourself.”

Lance swallowed. “You sure?”

“Yes. Hurt me if you want, even.”

Lance recoiled. “I’d never hurt you.”

Kolivan grinned. It was a handsome grin, looked strange on his face, like he was more used to subtle emoting. His fangs glinted. “Fuck me, Lance.”

Lance shuddered and dropped his head and squeezed the base of his cock. His other hand was digging into the top of Kolivan’s bent knee. He whispered, “Please say that again.”

With reverence: “Fuck me, Lance.”

Lance took a deep breath. “Okay.” He leaned forward and notched his head against Kolivan’s entrance. He eyed his clit with interest. He was distracted by Kolivan’s heat and had the compulsion to snap his hips forward. He shook with restraint.

“Don’t hold back,” Kolivan grasped his hips. “I’ve been fucking since before you were born, kit. I can take whatever you want to dish out.”

Lance nodded. His curly hair hid his eyes from view. He shuffled his knees forward and rolled his hips forward and his mouth opened to show all his shiny shiny teeth. He watched himself disappear into Kolivan and felt gooey, slick wetness, pressure caving in from every direction, a bizarre sort of suction unique to pussy, and he cried out a sharp shrill sound scared he’d come on the spot.

Kolivan meanwhile breathed deep and enjoyed the slow, laborious penetration Lance offered him. He was so _hot._ He felt tender and stuffed as if by a good meal. Kolivan brought his knees to his chest out of the instinct to get bred. Lance grasped the back of his knees inevitably, and at last their eyes met.

Lance was ripping holes into his bottom lip, his eyes bloodshot and wet, his brow dark and sweaty.

Kolivan tossed his arms above his head. He felt powerful. He felt desirable. He whispered, “How do you feel?”

Lance huffed. “I feel like…I feel like my cock’s melting. Like it’ll rot off and I’d thank you. You’re so _hot.”_

“What else?”

“It feels good, it—”

“Move and tell me how it feels.”

Lance stared at him with a drop of fear and ravenous hunger. He grit his teeth and landed his first, sloppy fuck.

That was all it took: he was now addicted.

Kolivan could have laughed at the wide-eyes and gaping mouth and clenching and unclenching of his hands. Lance rolled his hips forward and back once more, just a little harder to cause a nasty loud _squelch_ to erupt between them. He locked eyes with Kolivan, took in his flush and shallow breaths, and chased his pleasure.

Kolivan groaned. It felt good. So good. Too good. It was like Lance’s cock was drizzled with electrical currents that danced in the negligible space between their soppy genitalia. The mouth of his vagina _hungered_ and his asshole was getting hot too, eager for its fill. Kolivan was not familiar with this body that began to crave juvenile cock. As Lance got faster and his tears fell and his grip on Kolivan stayed fast, Kolivan let himself fall into it and called into the night.

Lance was loud too. He panted to the stars _hah hah hah hah_ slamming their bodies together and tilting his hips on each down stroke such that the tip of his cock hit some ubiquitous space in Kolivan’s body that made him writhe just a little more.

They could barely be seen beyond the wall of grass and for the moment nothing else existed. Just the stars, a distant tree, and the calabash of palm wine Lance took in hand and poured on Kolivan’s overheated skin. He leaned forward to take a sip but the change in angle startled him. There was a whole new facet of pleasure here. As he got drunk off wine and pheromones he gripped Kolivan’s ass, one cheek each, and chased it chased it chased it chased it.

Kolivan bowed his back. His feet curled and bounced in the air. His breasts lurched with every excited thrust. They flashed wine and sweat onto his cheeks. Lance was leaning over him suckling on a nipple, Kolivan’s panting rose three octaves and he grasped his lover around shoulders too broad for a boy.

“So good,” he praised. “That feels good. Don’t stop. _Don’t stop!”_

Lance was tiring fast, unused to this kind of exertion, but he did not slow. A hand reached between then and he jerked Kolivan off.

Kolivan dug his nails in and grit his teeth. His mind was popping static and his body wasn’t his own. His sense of selfhood was reduced to something immaterial and viscous. He was screaming something surely but he could not hear himself. He approached the precipice.

When he came his pussy quaked and Lance’s eyes rolled back in his head. There were no words. It was muscle and mucus and alien. Taking heed of one of his first lessons he lifted his thumb from Kolivan’s dick and dropped his forehead, moving in leisurely rolls until Kolivan was lucid again.

When he was Lance was yanked into a tight embrace. Lance’s tired back and thighs gave out and he succumbed to the hug.

“You are beautiful,” Kolivan whispered against his teeth. His lips were cold from sweat. His legs pinned Lance’s erection inside his hot hot body. “You are beautiful and I never wish to let you go.”

Lance melted into his sweet words. “Koli— _woah!”_

Now he was on his back and Kolivan rose above him like a mountain. Lance swallowed. The sky behind him had grown rosy during their coupling and rising sunlight painted Kolivan’s skin from black to maroon, his hair from starlight to the thinnest ivory. Lance’s cock throbbed with need and appreciation.

Kolivan grinned. “Let me.”

“I don’t need to,” Lance gasped, “you can rest—”

“I’m _old,_ I’m not geriatric.” And he squatted, planted his hands on Lance’s threadbare chest, and dropped his body on his cock.

Lance, fit to burst, sang. He grasped Kolivan’s wrists, his legs thrashed, and passion outside of his control crested in his body. Kolivan rode him with scary efficiency, staring at him lovingly, adoration clear as the new day. He flipped his hair over one shoulder and— _gods,_ what shoulders, bulbous and flexing, his stomach rolling back and forth like the tirelessness of the sea—

“Kolivan,” Lance panicked, feeling something new and terrifying. “Kolivan! _Kolivan!”_

“Sh-sh-sh.” His voice was gentle. “Let me catch you.”

“I’m scared—”

“I’m right here,” he leaned forward and kissed Lance’s nose. “Come for me. Come _to me.”_

Lance grasped him, shrieking as something loud seized his body. It rattled him from crown to sole and left him a specter of himself. His shaking pieces were gathered in Kolivan’s broad arms and so they stayed, sweet nothings passing between them, until the sun coloured the grass yellow, lit the tops of their heads, and began to dry the wine from their skins.

For six consecutive nights Kolivan would settle in his nest in the middle of nowhere with his calabash of oil and calabash of wine and each night unerringly a dark brown wolf would slip through the grass and lay beside him until they began to hunger for each other.

Lance adored being between Kolivan’s thighs and never missed an opportunity to eat him out. By the fifth night he’d learned Kolivan’s language enough to edge him on the tip of his tongue for three hours. Kolivan exacted his revenge by blessing his prick with his own palate. Lance was whimpering and useless for the rest of the night.

They never engaged during the day. They might recognize the back of one another’s heads around the tents and drying leathers but they didn’t approach one another beneath the sun. It made Lance feel lonely but Kolivan thought it for the best.

When Kolivan’s teeth ached with the need to brand Lance as his boy while he was bouncing on his cock for the seventh night, the last night before their distant cousins returned north, Kolivan kept repeating to his broken heart _it’s for the best it’s for the best it’s for the best._ He couldn’t ask Lance to live the rest of his life in a land that wasn’t his when he hadn’t discovered all of himself. He couldn’t. He couldn’t ask Lance to live with him when his own body promised him he could never conceive again. He couldn’t.

But when Kolivan ducked his chin and met Lance’s unwavering eyes brimming with a new sort of confidence Kolivan knew that the answer would be yes.

Kolivan kissed him. “You are lovely.”

Lance grabbed his hair and kissed him harder, fucked him harder, gave him bruises on his hips and throat, marking him in every way that didn’t matter. Kolivan thrived beneath Lance’s colossal desire.

“My family will be leaving the grasslands tomorrow,” Lance murmured when they were finished and their legs were tangled beneath their shared pelts. They now smelled neither like one or the other but like a whole new entity.

Kolivan kissed Lance’s knuckles. “I know.”

Lance squirmed.

“I’m fond of you, but we live in different places.”

“I could stay here with you.”

“I could never ask you to live in a land that is not yours.”

“It could become mine. I can learn.”

Kolivan pinched his chin. “I won’t take that choice from you.”

“It’s _my_ choice.”

“You’re young—”

“Not _that_ young!”

Kolivan smiled and lured him in for a slow kiss. Lance’s anger melted away into nothing. He gathered Lance into his arms. “I will miss you, Lance. Remember me fondly?”

Lance kissed Kolivan’s aching, bruised breast. He whispered, “Maybe…you could come with me?”

Kolivan wrapped a leg over Lance’s hip. “Sleep, love.”

Wounded, Lance slept. He was not surprised when he woke and nothing was left of his lover.

Hours later when their sister tribe was behind them his brother fell into step with him. Marco was huge, haggard and black, and his unkempt pelt made him look bigger than he was: lanky, groomed Lance looked feminine in comparison. He almost shrunk in on himself before the inevitable memory of Kolivan, masculinity incarnate, writhing on his cock beneath him resurfaced…

“You alright, kit? You’ve been dragging your paws for a good time now.”

Lance snarled a little, “Who sent you? Mommy?”

“Mommy was worried yeah but it was dad. Said if you walked any slower that we’d have to leave you behind.”

“I’m the rearguard.”

“Ha.” He shouldered him. “Seriously though. What’s up?”

Lance shook his head. “It’s whatever. I’ll get over it.”

“Ah. Fell in love?”

“No.”

“What was her name?”

“ _No.”_

“A guy then? What was he like?”

Lance glared at him but Marco was too bright eyed and bushy tailed. He _adored_ stories on love. Rachel often said Marco was more in love with the concept of love than forging a love of his own, which was why he had a slew of old flames in his wake. Watching him was where Lance learned romance, though with how he bombed with Kolivan maybe he should have understudied Veronica instead.

Veronica trotted up ahead with her new wife. Allura was stunning, otherworldly from her pelt to her form to her diction to her intelligence. She carried herself with the pride of a queen and Veronica had bared her throat and cock to her the minute they met. They’d exchanged bondmarks not three days later and their father suspected Allura was already pregnant.

Lance didn’t notice where grass and dirt gave way for pebble and stick. This ravine only sported a stream in the dry season and would be impassable once the rains kicked in. For the entire rainy season they’d be unable to return lest they take an additional month to wander over the mountain range…Lance was already plotting if the logistics were feasible…

“He was beautiful. When I first approached him he told me to go away cuz he thought I was in it for a wham-bam-thank you ma’am.”

“And you weren’t?”

“I’m not _you.”_

“I resent that.”

Lance rolled his eyes, and Marco nipped at his neck. “We got on. _So good._ I wanted to stay with him.” Lance grunted. “He said I couldn’t.”

Marco’s voice was soft, “The man has a point, kit. We aren’t built to hunt in those tall grasslands. We’re better suited for rivers, lagoons, beaches.”

“I could learn.”

“It’s biology. You can’t learn long legs.”

Lance clammed up, frustrated.

“So it’s heartbreak, eh?”

“Leave me alone, Marco.” And Lance darted ahead until he was at the front of the pack. He got a few glances from their leaders but was allowed to hide from his folks.

When they stopped for a drink at sunset a scout reported they were being tailed. Lance overheard by virtue of drinking right beside their leader.

“Unfriendly?”

“Not sure. They look like one of our distant cousins.”

“I’ll go,” Lance leapt up to his paws. “I can check in with them see what they want.”

Their leader eyed him. “That’s fine. You’re fast. Take my mate with you.”

Keith nodded, rubbed his nose under their leader’s throat, then rubbed against Lance, who returned the gesture. They were rivals in their youth but Keith considerably mellowed out after he forged a family with Shiro.

They bounded down the ravine fast as the wind and made something of a race out of it though Keith pretended to have left that juvenile streak behind. Lance was powered by desperation though, and it quadrupled when he caught a familiar smell on the wind.

Keith slowed, tongue out, “Blood.”

“They’re injured.”

Keith howled, hailing their stranger.

A weak howl came back. The timbre was impossibly familiar. Lance recognized Kolivan. Kolivan! Why was he here? How was he hurt?! He barreled ahead and stumbled and fell in the pebbles when they found him.

Kolivan was slumped beneath a dried tree. It wasn’t in their path when they came this way hours earlier, so it must have fallen from above, taken Kolivan by surprise.

“Kolivan,” Lance licked his nose and ears not quite believing it. This was the first time he bore witness to Kolivan in his pelt and his paws were huge. But he was crumpled, and his gold eyes flashed with pain. He only whined in reply.

“Lance. Take one side.” Keith had shed his pelt. Lance quickly did the same and the grasped the dead tree on either side of Kolivan. It felt impossible, Lance thought he’d burst under the strain, but he heard and felt Kolivan wiggling forward and grunting, trying to get himself free as quickly as possible, and then he was and Lance and Keith leapt back.

“There were rocks holding the bulk of it up. That’s the only reason he wasn’t crushed.” But no-one was paying attention to Keith. Lance’s hands were skimming over Kolivan and checking his wounds. Kolivan lay crumpled, but even curled in on himself he was a mighty beast. Twice the size of Shiro easy, he was likely ten feet long with an extra two for the tail. He also _reeked_ of Lance, which Keith frowned at, but was unsurprised with the way Lance had treated him and panicked now.

“Just a bruise, love,” Kolivan tiredly rasped. He winced when Lance touched his bloodied back. “Don’t fret.”

Keith stepped forward. “All the same let me have a look at it.”

Kolivan cast him a wary glance, but relented.

Lance was furious. “What the hell are you doing out here? What, did you change your mind and decide we actually do stand a chance together?”

“Yes.”

Keith, working, suppressed a grin at Lance’s stunned regard.

“I’m a selfish old man who can’t give you kits and only knows how to hunt through the grass and make palm wine but it took three minutes after you left to realize I’d follow you anywhere.”

Lance pressed their foreheads together. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“I can’t remember wanting anyone more.”

Keith whispered, “Just abrasions and bruises, but his left leg is dislocated. Lance, help me put it back in place.”

Lance looked at Kolivan teary-eyed and horrified.

Keith growled, “We can’t leave it like this.”

“Do what you must, love.”

Lance shifted to help Keith.

“Hold here. On three, push. Ready?”

Lance winced. He knew this body all over and yet touching it in a medical capacity terrified him. “Ready.”

“Two. Three.”

Kolivan howled. He bit himself off and growled in the dirt. Lance rushed to his face, kissing his muzzle, licking his silver ears.

“He has to stay off it for a bit. I’ll return with help. It’s too dark to march back to the plains but—”

“I’ll stay with him while he heals.”

Keith paused in the middle of pulling on his pelt. “That could be a few days, Lance. And we’re not going to stop working our way back home.”

“I’m not going to abandon my mate.”

Kolivan snuffled at him.

“My mate,” Lance repeated, staring into bright yellow eyes.

Keith deflated a little, but he was never one to advise others. Lance always liked that about Keith: he respected people’s decisions. “I’ll be back.” And he bounded up the ravine as though he hadn’t galloped down.

Lance crawled under Kolivan such that his large head was nestled in his lap.

“I’ll crush you.”

“Mm. Kinky.”

Kolivan laughed at Lance’s weak attempt at humor and Lance leaned into his fur and inhaled and inhaled the dark musky familiarity of a new home.

“Love?”

“Yeah?”

“I stand by what I said. We live in two different worlds. It is out of selfishness, jeopardizing your future that I pursue you—”

“I’m young. We’re of different cultures. You’re experienced. We’ll make this work.”

Kolivan did not immediately reply. “It will take work.”

Lance kissed the space between his bright pointed ears. Neither of them mentioned how Kolivan’s tail slowly wagged back and forth, but Kolivan could smell Lance’s delight.

It was twilight when the party returned. It was more than either Lance or Kolivan were expecting and Kolivan’s anxiety spiked. He was an insufficient mate, out of his element and outnumbered. The wrong move, the wrong word and the pack would tear him to shreds to defend their own. He’d seen it before. He’d done it before.

At the head of the approaching group was a massive, powerful creature. His lope was uneven, he hobbled—he was missing a foreleg. His eyes were sharp however, a piercing gray, and in a moment he understood precisely what occurred here outside of what his mate, latched to his side, might have reported.

“My name is Shiro. I’m leader of our pack.”

“I remember,” Kolivan shifted to sit up at the protests of Lance and his hind leg. He bowed his head. “My name is Kolivan.”

Shiro stepped forward and barely touched their noses in greeting. Kolivan dared relax a spell. “They tell me you are injured.”

“I am.”

“We cannot help you back to your family. Best we can do is find a safe space for you to heal and send word.”

“I’ll stay with him.” Lance was still human, vulnerable and small and latched himself around Kolivan’s mighty neck. Kolivan couldn’t decide whether to be proud and enamored or embarrassed and frightened.

Shiro took a step back and drank them in. His lips parted—Keith nudged his flank. Shiro sighed and decided against whatever he had been about to say. “Lance: you need to speak to your family.”

Lance caught the gaze of someone behind him. “I will.”

“Then put on your pelt and help. We found an inlet but it is above.”

Kolivan bowed his head. “Thank you.” And when he began to shift to his feet Lance was right beside him, under his shoulder, bracing him upright. Shiro eyed Kolivan’s colossal stature. He could swallow Lance in a single gulp!

Keith, conscious of Shiro’s thoughts through their bondmark, chuckled and nudged him.

The inlet was a shallow cave of cool stone. The overhang would offer protection from rain, but there wasn’t much to do about the wind. Kolivan winced on the entire trek up, nursing his aching leg and leaning heavily on Lance who bore his weight without complaint. On his other side was a fellow who looked a lot like him, a brother by appearances, with black paws and ice blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kolivan whispered. “I must be heavy.”

The brother, Marco, cackled like a hyena. “For your size you might as well be bird bones!”

Lance grunted. “It’s true, you’re really light.”

“Most of his size must be the fur. Or the age.”

The voice came from behind him and the back of Kolivan’s neck pricked. He did not imagine the animosity aimed at him. Lance’s sudden silence was bitter but he did not bark back.

Soon Kolivan had settled and the majority of the party that had helped him were drifting away.

“I’ve sent my fastest to your people. They should be notified by morning the latest.”

Lance looked up from where he was addressing Kolivan’s fur and the pretty sickle patterns of it. “Keith won’t reach there before morning?”

“He might, but it’s a decent walk away and its night now. It’s too dangerous to travel alone. Keith’s sure to spend the night.”

Lance nodded.

Someone barked, “He’ll be safe here. We must regroup. Come Lance.”

“I’m staying.”

Silence.

Shiro diplomatically turned tail. “We’ll wait outside,” he whispered to Lance’s mother. She sniffed and padded forward.

Kolivan winced. She was massive, scarred, and her eyes were steady, cold, and ancient: glacial. She was flanked by two women and two men. They were strong wolves and each bore a striking resemblance to Lance. Kolivan bowed his head and hid his throat.

“Are you really trying to hide? After the damage you’ve caused!”

“You can’t blame a man for getting in an accident!” Lance shouted, “What is _wrong_ with you, you’re never like this!”

“What is wrong with me is that my youngest son has been bewitched by a man old enough to be my _older_ brother! He’s a pervert and a predator and you can’t see that because you’re young!”

“I approached him!”

“Lance—”

“I love him!”

“ _Lance!”_

“And if you can’t accept that then you should go!”

Veronica startled. She snarled, but it was Luis who shushed her. Marco said softly, “Lance, you don’t mean that. We mean the best for you.” He looked at Kolivan apologetically. “I’m certain you’re a good man but even you must understand…”

Kolivan understood perfectly. Lance’s mother was right. She had every reason to be upset. But Kolivan would not be coerced into pushing Lance away, not again. His heart had settled too heavily in Lance’s chest. He couldn’t even feel it beating out of trepidation anymore. He channeled as much sincerity in his eyes as he could and remained quiet. If his tail shifted protectively over Lance’s haunches, that was not a conscious choice.

Message received, Lance’s mother turned tail. She was fast, efficient, powerful, she would no doubt tear Kolivan limb from limb on his best days.

Rachel whined at her, “Mama…”

“He’s made his choice,” she snapped.

Lance’s face crumbled. The sight of his mother’s back was the doorway to being forgiven. He rooted his claws in dirt and Kolivan’s pelt. Kolivan did not complain when he drew a tiny bit of blood. Lance trembled, and his mother never spared him a backwards glance.

His siblings looked horrified and torn. Then, one by one, they came to bid Lance good-bye.

“Be safe, little brother.”

“We will leave a trail for you to follow.”

“Give mama time. She will come around. Until then, protect each other.”

“We’ll see one another again one day.”

Lance didn’t have the courage to speak. He turned his eyes into Kolivan’s shoulder and couldn’t bear to watch them walk away.

Kolivan grumbled, “If you must choose between me and your family—”

"Mama is just being mean," Lance grunted in his fur. “Regardless, I chose you. I choose you.”

Kolivan sighed, heartbroken and feeling Lance’s undulating pain. This was no way to start a life together. He pulled Lance into his forelegs and groomed him until they fell asleep.

At dawn, Kolivan roused to see Lance ducking into the alcove with a fish in his jaws. “The rains must have started further north. The river’s broader today.”

Kolivan whined, “Then the path through the mountains will be all that remains—”

“It's fine. I don't have to see them this year. Or next year.” He tore the fish in half. “Eat. I’ll find you some more in a bit.”

Kolivan ate. This was the first he saw Lance so unreadable. He would be privy to a lot of firsts with Lance now. It filled him with equal parts love and excitement and melancholy.

Lance licked his teeth. “You’re acting like it’s your mother who left us yesterday.”

“It might as well be. Your heart is mine and I feel your pain. I miss my mother every day. I hate to be the cause of separating you from yours.”

“My mother is the one who pulled away from me. No woman should cut off her own child because of that child’s _love.”_

“She was not wrong.”

“She was wrong.” Lance left it at that. Kolivan kissed his muzzle, licking the blood from his teeth. Lance leaned into it, anger calming, contentedness rising, then giggling. Kolivan nipped and nibbled and played until Lance was giddy and on his back. He yipped when Kolivan’s nose traced a trail down his tummy. “Cold!”

Kolivan prodded his belly then licked at his sheath.

Lance froze. “Kolivan?”

“May I?”

“You’re hurt.”

“Sucking you off won’t hurt my leg.” He could smell Lance was more likely to fold than refuse him. “Please?”

Lance tilted and looked down at him with his big black soulful eyes. He was already breathless. “Yes.”

Kolivan licked the hollow of his groin and each side of Lance’s shaft. His body expectant, his cock popped free in little to no time at all. Kolivan forewent love to get Lance off. He swallowed, careful with his fangs. Lance howled. He trembled.

Kolivan bobbed his mighty head. Lance asked, “I bet I’m barely filling your mouth like this.”

Kolivan’s tongue covered Lance’s cock entirely. “Your cock is of beautiful size, shape and girth, love, whatever your form.”

“I could have the smallest prick on the planet and you’d still say that.”

“Of course.”

Lance glared at him half-heartedly.

“I don’t love sex with you because of your cock, whatever its magnificence. I love sex with you because its _you.”_

Lance whined. Kolivan adored the way his eyes softened. “Koliva—ah! _Ah!”_

Kolivan worked him hard and fast. He could smell Lance’s tears again. He enjoyed making his boy cry. His boy. His boy. At the very thought his own arousal blossomed. Lance was his now. Utterly and entirely. He wrapped his tongue around his cock and twisted his mouth and sucked. Lance bellowed and Kolivan drank his spend in a single swipe of his tongue. “Mm,” he praised, and groomed Lance’s loin. “You’re beautiful showing me your neck like that.”

Lance panted. “You could bite it out and I wouldn’t have a regret in the world.”

Kolivan’s arousal spiked.

“I can smell it.”

Kolivan shivered. A dark look passed over Lance’s features. It was a face of focus. It was a face of a predator. Kolivan pleaded, “Will you fuck me?”

“No. Your leg."

"It doesn't hurt."

Lance stared at him.

With a whine, Kolivan dropped his head. Lance pooled to his two feet, pelt tucked under Kolivan’s chin. “Thank you,” Lance kissed his ear. He lay down and buried his head between Kolivan’s legs. Kolivan felt a flare of pain but ignored it; surely it must have been far more uncomfortable for Lance. How was he able to breathe between the heat and the hair? But somehow he was even able to speak: “Love you, Koli.”

And before Kolivan could answer two fingers split his vulva, three went down his snatch, and a well-trained mouth cupped his dick.

Kolivan’s claws sparked against the stone. His tail thrashed.

“Don’t move,” Lance warned, fingering him cruelly. “Yeah?”

“Lance…!”

Lance turned to his work. “Can I tell you what I’m thinking?”

Kolivan hissed at a serpentine swipe around his clit and over his urethra. “Tell me.”

“I’m thinking that I really like your sex. Can I call it pussy?”

Pussy was _filthy._ Kolivan whined, “Yes.”

“I really like your pussy. It’s so warm and fleshy. And it’s messy and it should be gross but it’s the tastiest fruit I’ve ever had. Like the first guava I ate when I was a boy. The juice just exploded over my cheeks. I love your body. Does that feel good?”

Lance was stroking Kolivan’s dick between two fingers. Between the slick and his knobby knuckles it felt divine. Kolivan’s tail fell, threatening to crack stone. “Gods, yes. A little harder—”

“Like this?”

Kolivan sang.

Lance stayed steady licking clit and urethra and pumping his fingers predictably to nurse Kolivan’s orgasm.

“Yes yes,” Kolivan was losing his mind. “Yes! _Yes! Lance—”_ his hips stuttered, and it _hurt,_ and his orgasm cracked and his toes flexed and his breath caught and Lance drowned.

Kolivan chuckled when he saw his boy’s face again. His hair was plastered to his head caked in pussy juice. “Maybe you should rinse off.”

“I’m pretty sure I just did.”

Kolivan chuckled. “Come here.” And he licked him clean. The sun baked the entrance of the cave of the ninth day and Kolivan thought, _this is good._ With his purpose purring, tangled in his forelegs and a love he’d forgotten filling him to capacity, he felt good.

“Thank you, Kolivan.”

He licked his chest, he ached to see it full and strong one day. “My love. My boy. My mate.”


End file.
